


In Too Deep

by desert_neon (sproutgirl)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Relationship, Clint Barton/Bobbi Morse - Freeform, Divorce, F/M, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 03:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10234520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sproutgirl/pseuds/desert_neon
Summary: Phil pines for Clint Barton. Clint gets married, and Phil resolves to move on.Of coursethat's when Clint finally opens his eyes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Imagine ClintCoulson](https://imagineclintcoulson.tumblr.com/) blog on tumblr.
> 
> fergumeister asked for:  
> Phil is pining on Clint. Clint is oblivious until Phil decides to move on. C/C is end game. Thank you.

When Phil Coulson had first seen Clint Barton, his immediate and visceral reaction had been: want. The man had been beautiful; strength and grace and talent combining to create art in motion as he’d drawn, nocked, and released arrow after arrow in a stunning demonstration of skill.

Phil had locked down his gut reaction a second or two later, frowning at himself. It certainly hadn’t been the first time he’d felt an attraction to a colleague, but never so quickly, or so powerfully. It had taken him by surprise, but he’d been certain he could control it.

He’d had to be, because by the end of that demonstration, he’d submitted his formal request for an asset transfer through the system, and his informal request with a simple glance at Fury. Fury had nodded, and, just like that, Barton had become his.

_If only_.

If it had just been physical, Phil would have been okay. But Barton had turned out to be smarter than reported, more observant, and genuinely funny, all wrapped up with an underlying sweetness that tugged relentlessly at Phil’s heart. Phil had done his best to ignore the slow tumble he found himself taking, and it had mostly worked. Occasionally he’d slam into an obstacle on his way down and he’d have to reorient himself while coming to terms with the fact that he’d slid further than he’d realized.

Natasha Romanoff had been one such surprise. The strong, crazy, _irrational_ jealousy that had punched him in the gut when Clint had brought her in, when he’d nurtured her and befriended her and slept with her, had not only been unfounded in the sense that Clint wasn’t Phil’s to be jealous over, it had also been completely and utterly misplaced. Natasha was a good person who’d ended up becoming a sister to Clint and a trusted member of Phil’s Strike Team Delta, and a beloved friend to them both. 

Phil had been so relieved—and so incredibly ashamed of himself—that he hadn’t seen Bobbi Morse coming.

She’d arrived in a whirlwind of action, joining Delta on an op in Taipei, and the excitement didn’t die down when the mission ended. Phil had never seen Clint so happy, and it was both beautiful and painful to witness.

The day Bobbi and Clint exchanged their vows was the day Phil gathered up the pieces of his heart and decided it was time to move on.

 

_________

 

“Is that Coulson?” Clint asked, for once on his life not quite trusting his own eyes.

Bobbi looked over her shoulder, then turned back with a nod. “Yeah.”

“Shit,” Clint muttered, and he leaned in a little. “I have my Sig, my Glock, my throwing knife, and my Bowie. What you got?”

Bobbi tilted her head with an amused smile, somehow conveying that he was a dumbass and that she loved him anyway. “I think he’s just on a date, Clint.”

“What?” Clint asked, uncomprehending. “No, Coulson doesn’t date.”

“Sure he does. I heard he even took Sitwell’s sister out a couple times.” Bobbi turned while Clint did his best to get his brain back up and running, and raised her hand and her voice. “Coulson!”

Coulson approached with a small grin and a hand against the small of his maybe-date’s back. “Morse, Barton. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Uh, yeah,” Clint spluttered while Bobbi smiled and said, “Likewise.”

Coulson turned to the woman at his side. “Lisa, this is Bobbi Morse and Clint Barton, colleagues of mine. Guys, this is Lisa Gomes.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Coulson’s maybe-date— _Lisa_ —said, and Clint sat back, scanning her for clues. “I haven’t had the opportunity to meet many of Phil’s friends yet.”

“What agency you with?” Clint asked, barely covering his hostile interest with civility.

“Excuse me?”

“What agency? You gotta be with one of the alphabets. No way Coulson’s dating a civilian.”

She was good, Clint had to admit. She certainly looked the part; average and soft, and pretty in a quiet way, and her confusion actually came across as genuine. “I don’t—” she began, but Coulson stepped in.

“Believe it or not, Barton, Lisa works for the Smithsonian. I know it’s a shock, but I do have a life outside of work.”

“Yeah,” Clint managed, cowed by the slight warning in Coulson’s tone. “Sorry, sir.”

Coulson nodded. “If you two will excuse us, I think our table’s ready.”

“Of course,” Bobbi replied, gracious as anything. “It was nice to meet you, Lisa.”

“You too.” Coulson’s date smiled at Bobbi, glanced curiously at Clint, and let Coulson steer her away.

Clint watched them go until Bobbi regained his attention with a sharp kick to his ankle. “Hey, ow!”

“What is the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” he protested, though she clearly wasn’t buying it. “It’s just weird, is all. Like . . . Like seeing your teacher out in the real world during summer break.”

Bobbi laughed at him, shaking her head and letting it drop, and she only mildly chastised him whenever she caught him looking at Coulson’s table instead of paying attention to her.

 

_________

 

It was _weird_. Coulson was so much more relaxed around Lisa. He was still Coulson, of course, still a top agent of SHIELD, so Clint had to be careful when he tailed them, but he smiled more and wore sweaters instead of suits (the deep blue one was Clint’s favorite, for reasons he wasn’t about to examine) and Clint even caught him outright _laughing_ a few times, instead of quietly humming his amusement.

Yeah. Weird.

Even weirder was when it started translating to his work persona. Clint knew not everyone noticed—it was subtle—but Clint sure as hell did. He almost fumbled a shot the first time Coulson laughed at something Clint had said on the comms.

“Sloppy, Barton,” Nat said wryly.

“It did the trick, didn’t it?” he countered, pulling on the zip line he’d created as proof. Then he jumped in an effort to escape further comment.

He got better at tempering his reactions to the new Coulson, to the point where he actually started trying to elicit a laugh out of the guy. But he couldn’t stop watching, and waiting.

Waiting for _what_ , he didn’t know, couldn’t fathom, but there it was. Waiting. Waiting and . . .

Wanting.

 

_________

 

Clint knocked on the doorway to Coulson’s office and stuck his head inside. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“I did. Come on in; close the door behind you.”

Clint did, then threw himself into one of Coulson’s visitor chairs, feigning nonchalance and pretending he wasn’t as tired as he was. “What’s up?”

“You tell me.” Coulson slid a piece of paper across the desk, and waited.

Clint picked it up, sighing as he realized it was a printout of his request for temporary quarters on base. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Coulson repeated, his voice gentle. “What’s going on, Clint?”

“Me and Bobbi, we’re, uh . . . We’re getting a divorce,” Clint said, staring down at the paper, not quite ready to look Coulson in the eye.

He heard Coulson get up though, caught the movement as Coulson rounded the desk and settled against it, looking down at Clint. “I’m sorry.”

Clint snorted. “Not your fault.” So not Coulson’s fault. The entire mess was solely on Clint.

“Still. Do you want to talk about it?”

Clint shook his head, but his mouth opened anyway. “She . . . She accused me of ‘straying.’”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

Clint’s eyes snapped up, unbidden. She _had_. He wasn’t _lying_.

“You’re the most loyal man I know,” Coulson added, and Clint flushed, understanding that he’d misunderstood and knowing he didn’t deserve Coulson’s faith in him.

He shook his head. “No, she was right. I mean, I didn’t . . . well. I didn’t cheat. But, uh. There’s someone else I’ve been thinking about. Someone I’ve been . . .” He sighed, not prepared at all to admit how much he _wanted_ to the very man he’d fallen in love with. To the man he _had_ been in love with the whole time, even before he’d married Bobbi.

“I see,” Coulson said, quiet and sympathetic.

“ _I_ didn’t even see,” Clint protested, then dropped the paper on the seat next to him and kept his eyes down. “Not until it was too late.”

“Until you were in too deep?” Coulson asked, and Clint nodded miserably. “I know the feeling.”

Clint looked back up, intrigued despite himself. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” Coulson’s smile was small and his eyes were sad. “It’s not important. So, what’s your next step?”

Clint shrugged. “Sign the papers, I guess. I’ve had them for a while, I just . . .”

“Already?” Coulson asked, then seemed to catch himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean . . . I’m just surprised they’re ready for you so soon. I’ve never known lawyers to work that fast.”

“We just found some online,” Clint explained. “We’re not doing lawyers. There’s really nothing to fight over. She’s keeping the apartment, and I never had much stuff anyway. Anyway, it’s not that fast. I’ve been staying with Nat for the past few weeks.”

“Clint, I’m sorry. I should have realized.”

Clint raised one shoulder and tried a smile. “It’s not your job to babysit me, you know,” he said, causing Coulson to lift his eyebrows, which made Clint huff a little in genuine, surprising amusement. “Off the clock,” he amended.

“So you’ll sign the papers. Then what?”

“I dunno. Move onto base, find a place. Keep going.”

“Are you going to talk to the person you’ve been thinking about?”

Clint dropped his gaze again. “Can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’s, uh . . . He’s with someone.”

“He?” Coulson asked, but it was kind and maybe a little surprised, not judgmental.

“Yeah. I think, maybe, that’s why it took me so long, you know? I didn’t know I . . .”

“Yeah.” 

They were silent for a moment, then Coulson coaxed Clint’s head up with a gentle call of his name. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Wanna help me move tonight?” he asked with a forced and flippant smirk. It wasn’t a serious request; he didn’t have enough stuff to even need help.

But Coulson answered anyway. “I’m afraid I have plans.”

Clint’s heart sank, even though it wasn’t like he didn’t already know Coulson had a girlfriend. “Sure,” he said, hauling himself up out of the chair and making Coulson step to the side to give him room. “Say hi to Lisa for me.”

“Lisa? I haven’t seen Lisa in months,” Coulson said, stopping Clint’s retreat in its tracks. “We broke up ages ago.”

Clint didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t even know if he _could_ speak. His heart was suddenly pounding and his breath was tight in his chest.

“I am, unfortunately, solidly in first date territory tonight. Guy named Brian.”

Clint continued to say nothing.

“Clint?” Coulson sounded amused, but also a little worried. “Is it really that big a shock? I mean, I figured, given what you just shared with me . . .”

Clint shook his head, not at all sure what to _think_ , let alone say. “I didn’t know.”

“No reason you should have. I’ve been out in my private life for years, but at work, well. If it doesn’t come up, I don’t mention it.”

“Is it serious?” Clint blurted, and only stopped himself from clapping a hand over his mouth by balling his fists at his sides.

“Is my bisexuality serious?” Coulson asked, humor coloring his voice.

“Brian. Your date.”

“It’s a first date. I wasn’t planning on proposing or anything.”

“But, like. Is he someone you’ve been wanting to ask out? Is it, you know, a casual date, or is it a _date_ date?”

“I met him two days ago, at the coffee shop by my apartment,” Coulson explained with a bemused expression. “He asked, and I thought, why not? He’s certainly not someone I’ve been harboring a secret love for or anything.” Interestingly, the tips of Coulson’s ears started to slowly go pink. “Why do you ask?”

“You should cancel,” Clint said quickly, before he could chicken out. Then he forced himself to take a breath and square his shoulders. “You shouldn’t go out with Brian. You should go out with me instead.”

The seconds of silence seemed interminable. Then Coulson smiled, brightly and fully. “Okay,” he agreed. “Give me time to apologize to him at seven, and pick me up at my place at eight.”

Clint grinned and nodded, and headed for the door to make his escape before Coulson could change his mind. But as he turned the handle, he stopped and looked back. “Um. What’s your add—”

“Barton, don’t even pretend you don’t know exactly where I live.”

Clint laughed, “Sir, no, sir.” He left then, only to pop back in a second later. “Hey, Coulson? Wear the blue sweater.”

“Get out,” Coulson replied, his eyes twinkling.

Clint threw him a salute, and did as he was told.

 

 

—the end—


End file.
